Sharon spilled coffee on my new shirt while we were in the lounge this morning. I told her it was fine and we had a good laugh about the whole thing. If she does it again I'll stab her in the fucking throat with my pen.
She's a good kid.

The past, the present and the future walked into a bar. It was tense.

Anything that can kill a man, I sell. Except suicidal depression.That is unfortunately not packageable.

Danse: "Keep away from me, you filthy ghoul."
Hancock: "Don't flatter yourself, crew cut. You ain't my type."

Everything here is meant to kill at your discretion. Except for me. I only kill when I want to.